Seeds of Insanity
by Tsy Descartes
Summary: Erik's thoughts during the rooftop scene, gets dark towards the end, as he slowly turns from genius to madman. Movie/musical. One-shot. Please R&R!


**Seeds of Insanity**

It was a cold night. Dark clouds hung over the cobblestone streets and fancy buildings, black carriages going to and fro, splashing puddles over pedestrians and receiving a high degree of discontent. The low, background noise that were men and women screaming and laughing, in busy streets and darkened alleyways alike, resonated through all of Paris. No color could be seen: it was black, black everywhere. Even the majestic Opera Populaire had lost its golden glow in the face of the moonless sky.

For some, the outside world reflected their present state of sanity: cold, angry, unmerciful. Logic had been cast aside and replaced by a burning desire for something just beyond their reach. For others, the sky was only a reminder of how they could evade fear, still remain in a blind bliss, at least, for those moments. It didn't hurt that it had just begin to snow upon the roof of the Opera house, lightly falling like sprinkled sugar upon a cake.

The two lovers were already there when Erik arrived. Luckily, one of his many secret passageways lead to the rooftop, just not near the area he wanted to be in. Leaning forward, he could make out Christine's red cape and her lover's black suit, and could just hear a faint whispering between the pair. Fury burning inside him, the Angel clenched his fists, feeling the familiar texture of his lasso. Every muscle in his body wanted to rip them apart and take Christine, back to his home on the lake, back where she belonged, surrounded by music and angels and love.

But the logical genius in him began to doubt. What if Christine still held true to her promise? What if they were not really – together? What if they were just – friends? The side of Erik that was madly in love cried out that none of these were possible, and it would be best to jump down, kill the fop, and show Christine what and whom she truly wanted. She was just a child, she had no idea of the life of French aristocracy! She would never be able to perform again, never be able to sing for an audience. She would become de Chagny's trophy wife, not a companion or a lover.

_Oh, Christine!, _he sobbed bitterly. There was so much he could offer her, so much more than a life of cold nobility. She would not have the same materialistic luxuries, but she would have the luxury of life! The luxury of truly living! Doing what she may please, singing, performing, being treated as an equal by her loving husband… Erik felt a warmth inside, but that feeling quickly evaporated, replaced once more by the dread and despair that arose at seeing Christine with the de Chagny boy.

_What if she knew? _He frowned. _What if she knew she would never enjoy music again? What if that was a sacrifice she was willing to make – for him? _Those were thoughts he could not allow himself, but they had slipped through his mind like a seeping poison. "Damn you," he whispered, feeling the sting of unshed tears.

He needed to get closer. He needed to hear the truth.

Awkwardly, ungracefully, the broken Angel crawled on his hands and knees towards the edge of the rooftop, a plan formulating in his mind. There was a little ledge that shielded the two from sighting him. If he could hide himself under it he could crawl along the length of the rooftop… But it was precarious. He couldn't stay hidden under the ledge for very long… His eyes wandered the last piece to the puzzle, a stone statue behind which he could hide. An angel, nevertheless, his marble equivalent. Erik stood, staring at the tragic beautiful of the silent figure, before his attention was quickly drawn once more to the couple's hushed words. Executing his plan, he soon found himself hidden behind the statue.

Did he really want to know? Could he truly bear to hear the words whispered between two lovers? How much would it crush him to hear the proof of his love's evident betrayal? Was it truly worth it?

Yes. He wanted the truth, no matter the cost. He wanted to know whether it was all for nothing, or whether he still had hope.

Erik took a deep breath, pushing his doubts behind him, and peeked out at the one around whom his life revolved, a delicate flutter in his heart.

_"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime…" _

– as he froze in fear and pain, his yellow eyes fixed on the subject of his desire, who was singing out that song, that disgusting, horrid, song, as the despair began to seep into his heart like a disease, pulsing, agonizing, taunting him with those same, filthy words –

_"Say the word and I will follow you…"_

– as the darkness began to overtake him, as he crumpled to the ground, phantom tears falling upon the concrete, as the powerful Opera Ghost became a despicable mess – _Look at what she has done to me! Look at what I have become! – _as he threw himself to the ground, desperate, pleading with the forces of nature that wanted nothing more than his ruin, nothing more than to replay that song over and over in his mind –

_"Share each day with me, each night, each morning!"_

– as the seeds of insanity began to pool inside of him, the blackness twisting and turning, the Opera Ghost returning, the universe recoiling, the genius inside him vanishing, replaced by that loathsome gargoyle of a madman, the very reason why Christine had abandoned his sickening figure in the beginning, as he stood, composing himself, his mind consumed by death and bloodlust, as he realized at that moment that she would never willingly be his, as he realized what he must do –

_"Christine, that's all I ask of you…"_

**[So, what do you think? Do you agree that this was Erik's turning point? Thank you so much for reading and please review! Remember: more reviews = more writing. Thankies!~ Please check out my newest fanfic, Fallen Angel. Still PoTO.]**


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